The Nightmare Below
by NataliaRusakov
Summary: Jim coaxes Bones into an ill-fated landing crew, and when all goes tits up, the Captain must find a way to save his best friend. But this is the USS Enterprise, and nothing is ever straightforward. This rescue is going to be tricky one. Not your average 'Damnit-I'm-a-doctor-not-a-damsel-in-distress' story.
1. Chapter 1

It took weeks of constant pestering for Bones to relent.

Jim has been trying to convince him into a landing party almost since he took captaincy of the Enterprise, but so far, Bones has stood firm. Sickbay beds have become the net over which a rally of pester versus 'Damnit Jim, I'm a doctor not Dora the Explorer' is played daily until one particularly fraught day Bones whirls around and agrees to 'One time, never again and you get out of my sickbay or so help me, I'll stab you with so many hypos you'll begin to resemble Swiss cheese.'

So even the most stubborn can be broken, and it's a murderous looking doctor who storms onto the  
transporter pad, followed by an infuriatingly smug looking Captain who orders them down.

'Ten gamma shifts say that the Captain comes back with a black eye.'

'You're on.'

* * *

Bones knew something was wrong as soon as they'd landed. Firstly, there was no 'they.' He had landed, inconceivably, completely alone in a nest of the dead vines which latticed the entire planet. His right forearm was burning, but when he looked down, it was clear and unblemished.

He knew better than to call out, and instead gingerly extracted himself from the crumbling vines, hauling himself up to the top of a sandy ridge to survey the ground below. It was desolate, empty, and Bones lifted his eyes to the sky, longing for the familiar outline of the Enterprise. The green, smog-covered sky existed in a near permanent state of day, and the stars were only visible at certain times of the month.

'Humanoid!' Bones whirled around, and came face to tusk with a native. 'Identify yourself.'

'Doctor Leonard McCoy, USS Enterprise.'

'A doctor?'

'Yes.'

'Then you must come with us.'

* * *

The natives' impossibly lanky gait makes it hard for Bones to keep up, and the rest of the group simply chivvy him along, insisting that he must hurry, he must.

'Is someone injured? Sick?'

'No. Nobody is injured. But you must come, you must.'

Bones is wary, but with no sign of his comrades, and the delicate nature of diplomacy makes it difficult to speak to them, when their only response is to insist that he 'must hurry, you must.'

He still cannot understand how quickly the natives appeared. Their sickly jaundiced skin, dappled with the same dark green as the sky is a sharp contrast to the red desert, and to the bone-white of the vines, and he is certain he surveyed most of the visible desert from his former vantage point.

Still, perhaps they have a slightly more advanced leader, or some way to signal the Enterprise, and he cannot see any benefit in remaining where he was. He just hopes Jim, and the rest of the landing party, are safe.

That aside, he is going to _murder _Jim when he gets back.

* * *

'Dr McCoy, welcome. The recovery team has told me much about you.'

The leader's opening words to Bones are uttered as his left foot strikes the second step into the strangely clinical room, flanked by the 'recovery team,' who haven't issued so much as a breath yet.

When did he become so perceptive? He takes in the entire room, the clinical white walls, coupled peculiarly with furniture sculpted from cut off pieces of the bony vines. Other members of this native species are draped across them, looking up disinterestedly at the new arrival.

'I hope you will enjoy your stay.'

'Stay?' Bones finally finds his voice. 'No. Sorry, we were on a brief surveillance, I need to return to the… Wait. We were informed that the planet was uninhabited.'

'Misinformation is like a summer song… No that's not right. Why is a raven like a writing desk? No...'

Bones sighs. The leader is clearly as mad as a box of frogs, and he needs to signal the Enterprise quickly. He thinks for a second, and then interrupts.

'Did your recovery team extract anyone else?'

'This planet is uninhabited, Doctor, you said as much yourself.'

'I meant visitors. Aliens. Like me. I think our transporter link was interrupted, and I've been separated from my party.'

'Oh, I adore parties! Let's have a party!'

'Jim Kirk? Have you picked up a Jim Kirk? Tall, blo-yellow-haired, blue eyed, gol-yellow clothed?'

A shadow passes over the leader's face, and all trace of potential madness is erased by the sinister smile which suddenly spreads over his thin face, twisting his curlicue tusks into the same, peculiar smirk.

'Why yes. Jim Kirk. We have found a Jim Kirk.'

Relief and dread swoops over Bones as the leader extends a hand, gesturing to the wall directly behind Bones. Where there had once been an entryway, the bloodied body of a very dead Jim Kirk is pinned to the clinical white walls by the bony vines. Bile shoots up Bones throat and, as the long, twisted fingers of his captors seize hold of his upper arms a wave of nausea shoots through him and his legs give out, gazing up into the last smile of Captain James T. Kirk.

**A/N: I don't normally like Author's Notes, as I feel they detract somewhat from the flow of the story. But this story is delightfully obtuse, and I feel some things must be explained. This will be a three part story. THREE WHOLE PARTS. How marvellous. **

**Before you immediately exit out of this story, THERE IS NO CHARACTER DEATH. None. Nada. Na-uh. **

**While very little is explained in this chapter, and it is wonderfully short, I will explain. **

**1) Plot holes are necessary. I will fill them in later, as the story progresses. No whingeing. **

**2) When reading this, if not initially obvious, read with Alice in Wonderland in mind, possibly Through the Looking Glass to a certain extent. All will clear up later. **

**3) IT IS SUPPOSED TO BE SHORT. A Two Page 12 Point Font challenge was issued to me, and I accepted gleefully. Mostly because of my laziness. If you would like to take on the Challenge, go for it, and link me to it in the reviews.**


	2. Chapter 2

It takes less than a second for all hell to break loose, as within minutes of departure, the landing party is requesting emergency retrieval. The security lieutenant's voice is panicked, and Scotty relays the transmission to the bridge, who call Sickbay down. They arrive en masse at the pad, Spock leading the crush as a bloodied, shouting landing party materialize. The crew freeze for a second as they take in their bloodied Captain, but he shakes his head, gesturing to the unconscious CMO in his arms, and to the two lieutenants who are struggling with the weight of an unconscious ensign.

'I need medics!' Jim hadn't even finished the command before they descended on them, scooping the casualties up and running tricorders over Kirk and the lieutenants. 'It's not mine. It's Bones's. I need...' He shoves his way through the milling throng of medics, off-duty engineers and bridge crew, intent on one destination. Sickbay.

'Captain.' Spock's infuriatingly level tone cuts into Jim's panicked, tangled thoughts. 'What hostilities did you encounter? Should we prepare the ship for attack?'

Jim stares blankly at him, brain trying to stutter past the image of Bones, bleeding out in his arms, trying to link 'hostilities' to the bare planet, strangled by an enormous overgrown thorny vine, turning the once fertile land to a grey, rocky wasteland, and forcing it's former inhabitants to a nearby, smaller world.

'Hostilities?' Jim asks, filling the uncomfortably pregnant pause, unable to comprehend what the Vulcan means. Spock knew that the planet was uninhabited, he'd even sent out one of his junior researchers, Ensign Xehol in lieu of himself, claiming that uninhabitable worlds served no interest to him. (Jim knew it was an excuse, he'd seen the bed-eyes Uhura had been making at his First Officer all morning)

But still.

'Dr. McCoy's injuries are severe Captain. What hostility might we expect?'

Oh. Oh.

'No, no Spock, it's the plant. The choking weed? It's venomous. Bones and Xehol landed on it, the thorns broke their skin. Two minutes later they were gushing blood and sweating bullets, from superficial scratches.' Spock stares at him, and although no discernible human emotion crosses his face, Jim recognises the crease between his eyebrows as horrified.

'Captain, I had no idea...'

'Nobody's playing the blame game here, Spock. We need the Hepas' evacuation planet. They must have known the plant was venomous, they were the best healers in the nebulae. They'll know how to treat Bones.'

'Yes Captain.'

'Go up to the bridge. Set the course. I need to go to Sickbay. Call me when you've reached Hepaisalon Nu.'

'Yes Captain.'

The two part, and Jim quickens his pace, heart thudding painfully as he rounds the corner into Sickbay One to be immediately greeted by a mass panic. Medics jostle, armed with hypos, swabs, suction tubes, pressure pads, all manner of torture devices. Bones looks terrifyingly small, the once imposing CMO now convulsing on a hospital bed, blood pooling at his lips as he chokes out painful gasps. The vicious red scratch has been scrubbed, sterilised, and the viscous black goo that his blood and the venom had congealed into has been cleaned out, leaving clear bare skin behind.

Bones's lips are moving, and Jim moves closer, until his hand is resting gently on his best friend's forehead. He can't make out any of the words, Bones's lips are still swollen, but he does recognise the lip pattern of J's and M's. Bones is crying out for him.

* * *

The bastards drag Bones off to a cell, made up of a more healthy looking section of the vine, and a part that does not crumble away, no matter how many times he kicks and punches it. Every time he closes his eyes, he sees the deathly pale face of his best friend, dead at the hands of these undeserving bastards. He won't sleep, but forces himself to stay awake by shifting the blood-coloured sand, making a pit, and another, and another. Digging graves.

They serve him some kind of root for food, but the five pronged parsnip-like vegetable reminds him of swollen fingers and he casts it away in disgust and goes back to his methodical digging.

He needs to escape. The leader is mad, and the rest of the tribe seems subservient, but Bones refuses to believe that there isn't a single rebellious thought amongst them that he can manipulate. He'll retrieve Jim's body, hide out in the desert and attempt to signal the Enterprise. Spock won't leave without Jim, and nor will the rest of the crew, and Bones won't leave Jim here, like some rare butterfly nailed to the wall of this den of utter insanity.

He attempts to speak to one of the guards, but they rebuff him, chattering amongst themselves. It takes five shift changes to make a breakthrough. The 'leader' isn't really their leader at all. He's the priest, the rabbi, the imam. Their leader is a 'God,' who resides inside the Heart, the source of the vines.

Maybe this God-figure isn't as mad as his lieutenant. Perhaps he is Bones's ticket out of here.

He suddenly remembers something on the twelfth shift change.

'You said you needed a doctor. Why?'

The guard stares at him blankly, but turns to his superior, who dimwittedly relays the message until a few minutes later when the mad not-leader skips into the impromptu cave protecting the cage and cheerfully claims that 'God says he has man flu and wants something done about it.' Bones hastily agrees and he is led out of his cell, and deep into the labyrinth of tunnels formed by the secondary vines, worming their way underground. He tries to remember the way out, but gives up after five or six turns.

The entrance to God's chambers is a cell door. To his relatively pleasant surprise, 'God' doesn't resemble his followers at all. His skin is tinted blue, not the jaundiced yellow he's come to expect, and he's strangely familiar.

'Ensign Xehol?'

'God' looks up, startled.

'Dr McCoy?'

'What are you doing here?' Bones asks, incredulously.

'I woke up here. The Tribe were kneeling by my feet, begging my forgiveness.'

'Begg- never mind. We've got to leave, now.' Bones spins around, searching for an exit, but as before, it's gone. Bones stares up at Jim's body, but remains emotionless. Something is going on here, and he hopes to God it's a trick.

'We have to leave, Xehol.' Bones foregoes rank, but the young ensign's eyes are drifting, unfocused. Unconsciously, Doctor McCoy takes over from Lt Commander McCoy, and he steps forward to take the boy's pulse. It's racing, but not life threatening, and he observes all the symptoms of a panic attack. Soothingly, he reassures the boy, asking him about his home planet, his role on the Enterprise, how he survives working with Spock. He tries to remember all he can about the intelligent water dwellers from Plausi Minor from indistinct hours of Federation Planets at the Academy.

He remembers something about their unquenchable desire to explore, and that the worst kind of punishment for them, worse even than death, is confinement. Bones takes a wry look around the room. The sick freaks hit the nail on the head with that one. He continues to soothe the ensign, monitoring his pulse until it drops below an acceptable level.

'Dr. McCoy?' Xehol pants. 'I think I know what's going on.'

* * *

Spock had made contact with Hepaisalon Nu and obtained permission from Hepas High Command to transport down for crisis talks. As expected, Jim insisted on leading the landing party as soon as the medical staff declared Bones medically stable and Spock volunteered himself, recruiting two medics and an engineer as security.

The transporter team were uncharacteristically subdued, even Scotty had no wisecracks as the landing party left the pad.

'Captain Kirk.' The Hepas ambassador greeted him in stilted English, gripping Jim's hand in an approximation of a human handshake. He was remarkably humanoid, save for the larger eyes set into rich, russet skin, and the neat cat ears set into the curve of his skull.

'Ambassador Tailon,' Spock began smoothly, 'We made...'

'Why didn't you inform the Federation that the plant was venomous?' Jim's biting tone is the furthest thing from the diplomacy advocated by Starfleet. At least the Hepas ambassador had the good grace to look abashed.

'Our motives were innocent Captain. Follow me.'

He led them into the partially constructed High Command building. The Hepas had refused to build any permanent structures on their new planet, and it was only in the last few years that they had begun construction. The Federation-listed reason for abandonment of planet was listed as 'uninhabitable ecosystem.' Bones and Xehol were fighting for their lives because the Hepas had refused to tell High Command about the darker side of a previously harmless strangleweed.

Tailon led the party deeper into the building, past scores of dejected looking Hepas and into what Jim assumes is some kind of lecture theatre. A holoprojector was set up in the middle of the room, switched onto an image of Hepaisalon Prime, latticed by the strangleweed.

'I was only a young boy when it first appeared. Nobody thought much of it, it seemed relatively harmless. The planet was fertile, and new species were quite the norm. It was celebrated, like any new species, but a few months after its appearance, strange stories began to surface. Stories of young children playing on the stems, pricked by the thorns. They collapsed, bloodied from tiny scratches and never regained consciousness, simply suffering comatosa and then death.'

Jim frowned, and opened his mouth, but Spock beat him to it. 'How long?'

'Several years at least.'

'And has anyone ever been cured?'

The Healer's silence is answer enough.

* * *

'This plant, I have heard of it before.' Xehol's voice was rasping, and Bones realised that he has been out of water for too long. His skin is papery, translucent, and the luminescent blue has faded somewhat, to a faint, throbbing blush.

'Take your time kid. Deep breaths.'

'Yes Doctor. The vines encircling this planet were said to be harmless, but now I am not so sure. I harbor a personal interest-' He breaks off, coughing painfully and Bones pats his shoulder gently. 'A personal interest in xenobiology. I recall reading something about venomous stranglevines at the Academy, and although rare, they are not extinct. Some are said to have hallucinogenic properties, imbibing powerful emotional responses as a form of nutrition. I believe this particular species may have been starved when the planet was abandoned, and has manifested as a form of personal torture in the form of our greatest fears, mine being confinement and a lack of water, and yours as the death of Captain Kirk.'

Bones wants to retch again.

* * *

_Woah. Wait. Say what? A multi-chaptered fiction of mine, updated on time?_

_Witchcraft. Witchcraft._

_In all seriousness, thank you, to the 201 people who took an interest in a 948 word opening chapter, and to my one lovely reviewer. _

_Please leave a review, I'd love to hear from you, especially as this fic really marks my return to long-chaptered fanfiction, and I'd love to know what you thought. _

_I've almost finished with school, and am determined to bring my writing schedule up to snuff again. If you would like a particular fic written, for any fandom or pairing, shoot me a message, or a review and I'll have it up just as soon as I can. _

_Thank you!_

A friend should bear his friend's infirmities.  
**(****_Julius Caesar_**** 4.3.85)**


	3. Chapter 3

**Okay. I lied. The response this story got deserved more than three poorly written chapters. I've finished writing it now, so expect the next chapter on Saturday, and a bonus round on Sunday. See bottom for more info.**

'We have studied the plant, and when it became too dangerous to remain, we continued our studies from afar. The consolation gifts from the Federation for the loss of our planet, were ancient healing books from many worlds, and we pored over them, searching out any reference to a stranglevine with venomous defences. We eventually found a reference from the Saulon Nebula, referring to a strange vine which imbibed powerful emotional responses to psychological triggers.' The holoprojector morphed to images of convulsing Hepas, crying out for help, for loved ones, and Jim swallowed hard as he remembered Bones's silent screams. 'It was theorized that the plant created an unconscious world in which the sufferer endured their worst fears.'

'So essentially, you're pricked by this vine, it sends you headlong into your worst nightmare and feeds off the resulting emotions?'

'Essentially, yes.'

'But Bones has aviophobia, fear of dying in a flying object. So he's dying, over and over again?'

'Hypothetically speaking, I'm afraid so.'

Jim sank down onto one of the benches. It was rare that James T Kirk felt utterly and entirely helpless, but he was edging towards it. He had half-expected to land on Hepaisalon Nu, receive an anti-venom hypospray, give the Hepas a stark warning about lying by omission, file a segregation order for Hepaisalon Prime and be back to sparring with Bones over dinner by gamma shift changeover. He couldn't lose him. He couldn't lose Bones. He'd lost Pike. He'd lost his father. He'd lost half of his Academy classmates, and he'd lost his own life. He would not lose Bones.

'…that the vine may be dying.'

'What?' Jim had lost part of the conversation during his mini-meltdown.

'The plant has been quarantined for the last eighty years. It feeds off emotional responses, but our comparatively short lifetime and its inability to spread without physical contact has meant that as we die out, it is not replenished. Theoretically, with only five souls still trapped within it, three elderly Hepas and your crewmembers, it should be weak, and susceptible to attack without the means to defend itself.'

'So if we can destroy it, it might save them?'

The ambassador shifts uncomfortably, and then nods.

* * *

'We've gotta get out of here.'

'I thought that much was obvious Doctor.'

'Spock's really been rubbing off on you, hasn't he?'

The cell is absolutely impenetrable. The entrance is gone, and the walls stand infuriatingly firm. Bones was forcing himself not to look at Jim. The broken body was too much to bear. Jim shouldn't be here. He should be back on the Enterprise, safe.

'Dammit man, I brought you back once. I can't do it again.'

'I'm sorry Doctor, I couldn't hear you.'

'I wasn't...Never mind. Can you help me get him down?' It shouldn't be too hard to pull apart the vines. They're crumbling and weak, but Bones is hesitant, repulsed by the idea of holding Jim's body in his arms again. He did it once. He swore to himself then that he'd never do it again. He's about to do it now. Fuck.

'Get who down from where?'

'The Captain. We can't just leave…'

'Doctor, the Captain isn't here.' Xehol's face is bewildered, but honest. Bones looked between the ensign and his dead captain, confused, but realization gradually dawns on the Plausi's face. 'You were shouting for the Captain, I could hear you from my cell. You saw his body there too, didn't you?'

Bones nods, fixated on Jim's frighteningly real looking body, and then flinches as it flickers, like a bad transmission, turning two dimensional for a few seconds.

'Doctor, the Captain isn't there. It's your belief that he is dead that is strengthening it. The plant feeds off of our fears.'

'It flickered when I doubted it.'

'Precisely!' The ensign is gathering steam, trying to push himself up, off of the floor. 'We are seeing different environments. Describe yours to me.'

'Red, wet sand, bone-coloured vines,' Bones' starved mind is beginning to tick over, making connections he didn't think to see before.

'Like a human body,' the ensign surmises. 'And the tribe. Describe them.'

'Yellow skin, green sores,' Bones offers, and he comes to his own conclusion, before the ensign can leap in. 'I fear death. Not my own. I fear death that I can't stop, that I can't heal. Sickness, injury, degeneration into madness…'

And Jim's death worst of all.

'I see wasteland, a desert without end, with no trace of water. I am worshipped, yet I belong to a species that values community over leadership, and has never subscribed to religion. My deepest fears should not overlap with yours, yet we have ended up in the same vision. I think the vine may be too weak to sustain two separate nightmares.'

'Until we've given it enough brain juice to get its synapses back online.' The assessment sends shivers down both of their spines. 'We haven't got much time.'

'No, we do not. But I may know how to defeat it.'

'I think I do too.'

* * *

'For God's sake, tell us. We've got to try.'

'Captain.' Ambassador Tailon's voice was subdued, desperately unhappy, and his ears droop forlornly. 'No salvation comes without cost, or risk. We have hypothesized a potential cure, but it may not be worth the cost, in your eyes at least.'

'Stop talking in riddles! I'm ab-'

'Please,' Spock cuts in smoothly, shooting Jim a filthy look. 'We are willing to listen to, and decide rationally on any course of action.'

'Many of the references to the stranglevine alluded to the destruction of it. Hypothetically, we might conclude that physical destruction of the vine may destroy the nightmare world it creates.'

'Then let's do it!'

'Wait. Destruction of the source is likely to destroy the vine, but the implication for the victims must be considered.' Tailon's voice became more urgent, but one of the Enterprise's medics spoke up.

'The destruction of the vine could lead to three possibilities.' He withers under the sudden attention of both his Captain and First Officer, but Jim forces a less aggressive look onto his face and nods his permission. Haltingly, looking to Tailon for reassurance, he continues. 'It could free the victims, and return them to their physical bodies. But I'm almost positive that the rule for not interrupting a nightmare or risking psychological damage could be applied here.' Tailon nods and the medic continues. 'Second, the destruction of the vine would kill the plant, but that could also kill those trapped within it, saving them from the nightmare, but they'd be medically brain-dead. Third, the destruction of the vine could raise it to a higher metaphysical plane, and allow it to extend its powers, trapping those within it for an eternity, with no hope of salvation.'

Jim grips onto the edge of the desk for support. 'So my choices are limited to psychologically damaging him, killing him, or killing him and committing him to an eternity in that hellhole? That's your cure?'

'It's not ideal Captain.'

'Not ideal? You moronic idiot, you should have told us. My partn-CMO is going to die because of your idiocy.'

'Captain!' Spock sounds horrified, but Jim is too far gone to care.

'No, Mr. Spock. Captain Kirk has every right to be angry. We should have informed the Federation. But we thought our planet was insignificant enough not to be visited or at least you would visit us first so we might warn you. We are a peaceable race, and we loathe destruction and seek only to heal. It pained us, as an entire species, to imagine being responsible for the death of any lifeform.'

'You call that carnivorous, malicious weed a lifeform?'

'All life is valued. And we will stand by our actions. We are sorry for your loss.'

* * *

**Screw it. 500 views. 4 reviews. 16 followers. 7 favourites. LET'S HAVE MORE CHAPTERS.**

**i have actually finished writing the story, but it's a rough draft. And handwritten. I'm planning to transcribe it on the plane back to England, so my target is to complete it by next Wednesday at the latest. Then I'll move on to some requests and the smut I've half written and am currently debating on continuing...**

**QUESTION. There is still time! Would you like a quiet McKirk moment, romantically speaking, or would you prefer I left it implied/platonic? It's up to you. I personally can read it either way, but I'm interested to know what you think. It won't be intrusive to the story, but it's a nice twist.**

**Thank you!**

**I haven't uploaded a fanfiction in over a year, save my hysterically angsty SPN one a few weeks back. It means so much to me that you all took the time to read this irritating little plot bunny that had been bugging me for weeks, and took the time to favourite, follow and review! Please keep doing so, I love checking out and reviewing on your fics in return. **

**Love, as always, **


	4. Chapter 4

Jim storms out of the lecture theatre, a sharp lump in his throat. Spock tails after him, and grabs his elbow to stop him, pulling Jim back around to face him.

'Captain. We must approach this logically.'

'To hell with logic, Spock. I'm faced with watching my friend die slowly, trapped in his worst nightmare, which just so happens to be _dying, _or killing him myself but possibly leaving him to an _eternity _of that hell. But you wouldn't understand that, would you?' Jim's voice was raised, drawing the attention of passing Hepas, and Spock, ever the ambassador, pulled him into a side room, out of earshot.

'On the contrary Captain, I do understand. Whilst you and Doctor McCoy believe me unable to recognize emotion, I have come to see you and the doctor as 'friends' of mine. I wish no suffering upon him, and I will stand behind any decision you make. However, I believe the logical approach would be to carefully return to Hepaisalon Prime, under protection, to survey the vine and attempt to locate the source before coming to any conclusion as to our course of action. In the meantime, I believe contacting Starfleet may be beneficial, as would taking on board two Hepas healers as diplomatic envoys to check Ensign Xehol and Dr. McCoy.'

Jim turns the suggestions over in his mind, mentally evaluating each one. _If the instructors at Starfleet could see me now, _he thought wryly. 'OK. You and I will go down to the surface, with protective clothing. We can't contact Starfleet, I can't have the decision taken out of my hands. Not Bones. I'll be responsible for his death, not some faceless brass. If anyone's going to kill Bones, it's going to be me.'

* * *

'So that's the plan. We've got to get to the source of the vine, find some way to destroy it and hopefully we'll survive too.' It's a piss poor plan, but the bony vines appear to be strengthening, leaking out a foul smelling substance. Xehol, too, pauses to sniff at the air.

'The vine is strengthening Doctor. It is infiltrating more senses. Once it reaches our physical pain sensors, we will be all but incapacitated.' Bones doesn't want to think about that, doesn't want to think about the possibility that this could be all they have left. Xehol appears to have come to this conclusion, and Bones hears the faint whisper of 'Water' before Xehol sinks to his knees, and Bones is beside him, trying to comfort the boy out of another panic attack.

'I will get you,' Bones swears quietly. 'I will get you, and I will destroy you.'

It takes a few minutes for Xehol to come back around, and Bones has already formulated a plan. He gently helps the Plausi up into the throne, and hammers on the door.

'God wishes to see you now.' He is almost bowled over by the stampede to get back into the room, and the tribe throw themselves to the ground before Xehol.

'Master,' they murmur, and Xehol looked as though he would vomit.

'Keep your eyes cast down. Do not look up,' Bones improvises, 'Show your respect.'

He beckons to the boy, who quietly steps past the obedient tribe, and Bones slams the door shut.

'Are you okay to run?'

'What if they chase us?'

'You said it yourself,' Bones implores, 'They aren't real. They're a figment of our imagination. All we have to do is believe that they aren't real, and they won't be.' Xehol nods, but as Bones turns away, he almost trips over something. Jim's body, broken and bleeding out, eyes open, pleading and frightened. He can almost hear Jim's voice calling his name, crying out for help. 'You're not real,' he shouts, startling Xehol, 'You're not real.' On command, Jim's body flickers, like a primitive television transmission, and vanishes.

* * *

Jim returns to the ship, and the hopeful anticipation of the awaiting rabble, hands almost outstretched for the hypospray they believe he's carrying, and he sees the visible wilt as Spock shakes his head.

If it wasn't so damn heartbreaking, it would be heartwarming. In the two years they've been aboard the ship, Bones has gained a reputation for being the perpetually grumpy CMO who likes to stab people with hypos when they misbehave. Jim has noticed officers literally falling over themselves to get out of his way if he looks even the slightest bit purposeful. But now, watching the crew turn dejectedly away, separating out and returning to their tasks with not a hint of morale, Jim realises how much they've come to rely on Bones. The crew know that if anything should happen to them, the grumpy doctor with a habit of 'surprise' booster jabs will turn into a purposeful surgeon, with the steadiest hands in Starfleet who will work tirelessly to save them, without a thought for his own safety. He _resurrected _Jim. Anybody else would have given up, signed the notification of death form, swigged an entire bottle of bourbon and sent condolences to the family. Not Bones.

Jim won't let Bones die. He won't. And he won't leave him to the mercy of that plant.

He spends the final few hours with his best friend holding two glasses of untouched whiskey; rambling about all the things he should have said when he had the chance._ 'Hey Bones, thanks for having my back at the Academy. Hey Bones, thanks for not throwing up on me in the shuttle. Hey Bones, thanks for all those ridiculously drunk nights I woke up back in bed, and not sprawled in a rubbish disposal unit or something stupid like that. Hey Bones, thanks for getting me onto the Enterprise in the first place, even if you did have to half kill me for it. Hey Bones, thanks for being the voice of reason when I was being an idiot. Hey Bones, thanks for shaping me into the captain this ship deserved. Hey Bones, thanks for freaking __resurrecting_ _me, for saving my life over and over and over and over again. _

_'Hey Bones, thanks for being the best friend I always needed, and being so much more than I ever deserved. _

_'Hey Bones, thanks for believing in me when nobody else would._

_'Hey Bones, thanks. Thanks for everything.'_

Spock's face takes over the Medbay screens, and announces quietly that the mission has been prepared, and they are ready to leave on his command.

'I'll meet you at the pad.' Jim is surprised by the level tone he somehow musters. In the back of his mind, he registers that he should be on the verge of a breakdown, but he's remarkably calm as he grabs one of Bones' hands and squeezes, demeanour changing to urgent in a matter of seconds. 'I'm gonna do it quick Bones. I'm gonna kill it, and I'm gonna stop it hurting you. You always had my back Bones, now it's my turn to have yours. You've got to come back to me though, okay? That's my trade. You've gotta come back, you can have whatever you want, free hypos, no complaining, me confined to the ship for a month, whatever you want. I need you back Bones. I can't be a Captain without my CMO to patch me up, and I can't be Jim without my Bones to yell at me and still bring me back every time, to argue about everything and anything and still be my only friend at the end of it.'

Bones lies still, unmoving, but it only fuels Jim's desire to carry on, and he feels anger bubbling in his gut, feeling like he could tear this bastard vine apart with his bare hands. He's going to destroy it, and he's going to save Bones. No questions, no hesitation. He's going to save him.

* * *

Bones is hit by a sudden jolt of energy, almost knocking him clean off his feet as he and Xehol run deeper into the cavern created by the sprialing, young vines. They haven't quite lost their bony texture, but Bones fancies he can see a hint of red beneath the enamel, alive and pulsing.

He can hear Jim's voice.

It's disembodied, and garbled, as if he's underwater, or listening through a bad connection, and it's _thanking him? _

'…ey Bone…hanks for…'elieving in me…'

Bones shakes his head, determined to shake off this trick. He won't be sidetracked. He won't. The voice continues, becoming more and more coherent.

'…gonna destroy it…free hypos…'

It sure _sounds _like Jim. But promising free hypos, and banning himself from leaving the ship? That's Bones' imagination. Damnit.

'Are you alright Doctor?' Xehol asks.

'M'fine,' Bones spits through gritted teeth, bracing against this splitting headache brought on by this latest trick.

'Where do you suppose our physical bodies are?' Xehol is probing the walls, looking for a weak point through which he can force through.

'Jim probably took us back to the Enterprise.' His words are met with a faint crack and a gasp. 'Xehol?'

'Doctor… I think we may have found what we're looking for.' Bones peers into the darkness, and then sees what very much resembles an enormous human heart, pulsating in the heart of the room, lit up dimly by the energy sparking through the outgoing vines.

'How do we destroy it?'

Xehol shifts, keen eyes examining it from all angles. 'I don't believe it is susceptible to physical damage,' he concludes quietly.

'So we have to destroy it psychologically.'

'Unfortunately, I have no theories as to how we might accomplish this.'

'I do.'

Xehol steps aside, and Bones edges closer to the heart. 'I used to have aviophobia. Fear of death in a flying object. So I signed up for Starfleet, to face it head on. Now it doesn't bother me.'

'I don't follow Doctor.'

'To overcome a fear, you face it head on. Not only that, you overload it. You go all the way. Out into space in a damn starship captained by Jim Kirk until you can't be scared any more. So that's it. If I touch _that,'_ he gestures at the throbbing heart, 'I overload it, by facing my very worst fear head on, I'll overload it, all the way. My emotions will be too close and it won't be able to take them. You defend the door.'

Xehol nods and Bones edges closer. He can feel the defences, the fear of the plant itself but he stretches out a hand, even as it forces waves of images, dead, dying, sick Jim, face metamorphosed onto every single person he couldn't save; men, women, children, alien species, every single time he felt that overwhelming borrowed heartbreak as another patient's life slipped away multiplied by a thousand as it becomes Jim's blood slipping through his fingers, Jim's throat constricting around the venom, Jim's voice crying out for help, watching, listening, _feeling _as his best friend's life slipped away, over and over and over again. It forces him to his knees, but with the last of his strength, even as he hears Xehol destroying their pursuers, he summons all that he has and thinks _over _the vine's mind, turning the tables on it, remembering every one of the individual times he saved someone, watched their vitals spring back up to normal levels, every satisfied time he ticks that little box on their file to confirm that they've successfully responded to treatment and are able to return to their lives, every time he's kept to the Declaration of Geneva, something he's never broken to this day, and then, with the last dregs of his strength, he speaks, pulling the memories of treating Jim, patching him up, saving him, and then he plays his ace, _bringing him back to life._ 'I already fought those demons. And I won. And you are nothing but a dead vegetable.'

With one last, high pitched scream the plant convulses, and then explodes, and Bones is lost to the darkness.

_Did we win?_

* * *

As soon as they had landed, they knew something was very wrong. The entire planet began convulsing the second their heavily booted feet touched the ground. The sounds of cracking rock are muffled by the space helmet, but worryingly loud nonetheless.

'What's going on?' Jim shouted.

'I don't know Captain.' Spock responds, before dropping so suddenly Jim thinks for a horrifying second he's been pricked, but realises that the Vulcan has simply crouched over to examine a puddle of viscous black goo spilling from a split in the vine.

'Update,' Jim shouts, and the visor of his helmet is filled with Chekov's face. The bridge is noisy, with officers of all channels milling about, shouting instructions.

'Keptain, we're picking up planet-wide seismic shakes. The wine appears to be wolatile, withering to a central location.'

'What did you do?'

'Nothing Keptain, we obeyed your orders to observe only, I can confirm that no weapons were fired… wait, I am reciewing a message from Medical…'

Chekov's face switches to Uhura's as medical takes priority to Chekov's comms. 'Captain, I advise an immediate return to the ship. Planetary scans indicate that the vine is now volatile.'

'No, we've got to destroy the source,' Jim shouts.

'I don't think that will be necessary Captain.' Jim turns to argue with Spock, but as soon as he does so, he instantly agrees.

'Enterprise, beam us up, now.'

As soon as they've returned to the pad, Jim tears off his protective clothing, striding out and up to the bridge, issuing orders to arm and prepare to fire weapons on the planet. If he can't save Bones, he'll make damned sure that nobody else has to suffer that fate.

'Captain.'

'Prepare the contact to the Fleet, the Federation…'

'Captain.'

'…they'll need reports, up to date…'

'Captain.'

'…we don't know how this thing spreads…'

'Captain.'

'…decontamination chamber?'

'Captain.'

'…contact surrounding Federation planets, order planetary scans for any sign of it…'

'Keptain, you are needed in Medbay. Doctor McCoy is asking for you.'

Jim froze, orders forgotten. 'He's alive?'

'He began coming to as soon as we began picking up changes in the wine's biological makeup.'

He's alive.

_He's alive._

* * *

Bones, predictably, is causing havoc in Medbay.

'Get off, I don't need a damned… Get off!'

It's so painfully good to hear his voice, even if it is cursing and chewing out his own medical staff, and Jim stops at the foot of his biobed, content to just watch his very alive best friend for a few moments. Bones stops dead from swatting off his medics and just stares at Jim.

'You're alive.'

'You're okay.'

'You're al- You _asshole. _I had to watch you _die. _Over and over again_. _I _told _you putting me in that damn landing party was a terrible idea. _You…' _Bones doubles over, breathing heavily and Jim moves around, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

'Can we have a moment please?'

The medics shift uncomfortably, but a single flash of Spock's Look clears the makeshift cubicle, leaving the Captain and his CMO alone.

Bones tries again, with less force. 'I watched you _die _Jim. All those deaths I couldn't prevent; I had to watch being inflicted on you, an' I could do _nothing.'_

'I'm sorry.'

'Jim Kirk, apologising. I must have knocked that damn vine out so hard it flipped over onto you.'

Jim froze. 'What?'

'We overloaded the vine. Psychologically. Played it at its own game.'

Jim stared. 'It was _you?' _

'Don't sound so damn surprised, I am capable of figuring out shit on occasion.'

'Yeah, thank God for that irritating habit, or neither of us would be still here.'

Bones laughed, a free, un-Bones-like laugh. 'No, Jim. You would be dead, and I'd be safe on a ship captained by someone capable of making non-reckless decisions.'

'You'd be bored out of your mind.'

'True.'

'We okay?'

'Of course. Now pass me up my medical bag.'

'Why?'

'You promised me free hypos and a month's worth of you being ship bound. I am going to _enjoy _this.'

'You _heard _that?'

'Jim, if I was deaf, trapped in a soundproof cell in the furthest reaches of the Delta Quadrant, and you _breathed _the words 'free hypos and no complaining' following shortly by paraphrasing 'no reckless behaviour' I'd hear you.'

The banter has resumed, and the medical staff move away contentedly.

Jim calls down for a board of 3D chess, and offers to barter for the month-long restriction. Bones wholeheartedly agrees, but insists on triple or nothing. Jim doesn't have to know that he's been engaging in practice sessions with the hobgoblin.

And Bones can't help but grin as Jim turns away to sneak into Bones' office to retrieve the tiny bottle of bourbon he's had stashed in there since shore leave.

Because Jim Kirk is not dead.

Jim Kirk is very much alive.

* * *

Hours later, when Bones has been sentenced to bed rest, and Jim is heading back to his quarters to shower, Spock corners him. 'Captain, may I offer an observation?'

Jim sighs, in fatigue rather than exasperation. 'Shoot.'

'You theorized that the doctor would be suffering visions of his own death by aerotransportation, but it would seem that, by his own account, he appears to have overcome this, replacing it with a fear of your death.'

'Your point being?'

'It would seem that Dr. McCoy is now dependent on your safety for his own mental wellbeing. I would advise you take this into account in the future, if only to preserve his psychological wellbeing.'

Jim stares at him, lost for words, outraged and hysterical in equal measure.

'Yeah, Spock, I got that.' He waits until he is safely in his chambers before he doubles over laughing, letting out all of the fraught, pained emotions of the last day and allowing them to dissipate. Bones is okay. His best friend is safe, back in his quarters, no doubt ignoring his bedrest orders, and although Jim is now banned from missions, other than absolute emergencies, for _five _months, Bones is still safe, still grumbling, but still alive.

Jim once thought that he feared nothing but an empty bed and blue balls. Now every moment, waking or dreaming is concerned with the wellbeing of his crew, their safety, their morale. He makes it his business to know when someone is ill or injured, and when they're back to full health, but none more so than his CMO. He couldn't imagine being a captain without Bones as his CMO, and he couldn't imagine being Jim without Bones as the only person he'd ever truly trust to have his back. Bones saved him in every conceivable way, and Jim decided, five month confinement and hypos aside, that he will dedicate every single moment he has left to returning that impossible debt, even if it means dragging Bones back from the grave.

Because Jim Kirk is many things. So is Leonard McCoy.

Jim is cocky, Bones is cantankerous. Jim is reckless, Bones is stoic. Jim is an idiot, but a damned good Captain. Bones is a grouch, but he's a damn good doctor.

And above all, both of them are damned good people, and damned good people have a habit of finding each other, cancelling out the flaws that threaten their damn goodness, and making for a damned good friendship.

And Jim is grateful, every single day.

Because damn good friendships are damn hard to find, and yet Jim Kirk, with his irrepressible idiocy and moronic attitude to anything sensible has somehow managed to snare Leonard McCoy for a best friend, a best friend who'll yell at him, but still get him onto his ship, kickstarting his entire life, argue with him over anything and everything, but still bring out the bourbon and bad 21st century movies to prop him up after a particularly bad day, and even overcome that famed stoicism to cry for him when he's gone, and refuse to obey the laws of biology, medicine and common sense, just to bring him back. Yes, Bones McCoy is the _best_ kind of person. And Ji…

Jim's mental soliloquy is interrupted by a bleep from his comms. It's a message, incoming from CMO Lt Commander Leonard McCoy.

'_I've scheduled you in for eight booster jabs before the next gamma shift. Medbay, or I __will __find you. And it'll be nine.'_

The very best.

* * *

_What._

_What is this. _

_Did I just write a __multi-chapter__ fanfiction in four consecutive days? _

_I'm feverish, I'm sure of it. _

_In all seriousness. 2000 views._

_You guys are amazing._

_I have a moderately popular fanfiction._

_I'm on my way!_

_Seriously though, thank you to every single one of you who read, reviewed, followed, favourited, alerted, anything, it means the absolute world to me. I mean it._

_This story is by no means done. I may follow it up, with two branches or potential direction. Shoot me your ideas._

_Guest, I'm currently in the process of planning your request, but if anyone can think of an ailment that Spock won't know how to treat, hit me up, quick before the plot bunny hops off. _

_Thank you guys, for confirmation that I should leave it platonic. That was my initial idea, and always the perspective I wrote from, since I felt it was more meaningful, and less sappy. Especially as I think McKirk friendship or romantic are equally as intriguing, yet friendship fitted with a better dynamic in this fic to avoid making it soppy, but I popped it into the AN to satisfy the twelve people who PM-ed me, __insisting __ I made it romantic. I was frankly scared by the several people who were somewhat aggressive in their insistence that it HAD to be platonic or they'd unfollow and block and all manner of other things. To that minority, please chill out. I'm an experienced fanfictioner (albeit with a new account) and can take that kind of language, but to be quite honest, my thirteen year old self might have balked. Tone it down next time okay, I'm all for a chat, I love talking to you and hearing your thoughts, but there's no need to be rude, I promise._

_Sorry, but I felt that was necessary. Thankfully it hasn't soured my opinion of this fic or any of you, and so many of you have been simply l__ovely__, so thank you. Again, I'm currently taking requests, from anyone for anything, and will post it on here and on AO3, so send me those over PM as quickly as you can to get it up within two weeks._

_Thank you for reading, and I do apologise for this excessively long author's note. _

_Love, as always,_


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